


Sleep

by yesterdaychild



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, blowjob, but it's loving I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 05:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterdaychild/pseuds/yesterdaychild
Summary: Bucky struggles with sleep the night before he goes back into cryo in Wakanda, so he comes looking for Steve. Turns out, Steve always has the answer to his problems.





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in Wakanda sometime just before Bucky goes back under. I might have taken some creative liberties with the timeline. I was listening to One More Night by Stars when I was hit by these massive Stucky feels. It's strange because I never shipped Stucky before. Other songs on this fic playlist include Angeles by Elliott Smith, Cemetery Weather by Isles & Glaciers, and Aikagi by SID. Oddly this fic is not as angsty as the playlist would suggest.

A sliver of light appeared on the wall by Steve Rogers' bed, its sharp edges interrupted by the curve of a shadow. Steve could barely hear the light sound of a sigh; after all the person responsible for the shadow had trained for years in stealth and violent deaths, and old habits did die hard.

"Can't sleep?" Steve murmured, eyes still closed.

The room stilled as the person was taken by surprise; Steve's own habits of feigning sleep died hard too, it seemed. 

Then the sliver of light widened as the door was pushed open. Steve rolled over and tossed his blanket open, reaching for the light switch as he sat up. "You alright?"

Bucky came fully into the room. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nah, it's fine," Steve said, patting the mattress next to him. "Staying up tonight?”

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "I'll be asleep from tomorrow till however long it takes for the princess to figure out how to fix me," he said, then quirked a small smile, a shadow of the once-mirthful James Buchanan Barnes. "Figured I could spare a couple of hours of sleep."

Steve knew from experience that when a person got to sleep sometimes wasn't a choice, especially when they had a lot on their mind. And when that person had spent so many terrifying hours submerged in unconsciousness and having their memories wiped out, the darkness of sleep could feel like betrayal. 

"You're doing the right thing," Steve said quietly, and when he reached over to put his hand over Bucky's, they both knew he wasn't talking about Bucky's decisions about sleep.

“I don’t know if I’m going to wake up from this, Steve,” Bucky said. “And with what few memories I have, I feel like I’ve already been asleep for half my life. Going under again feels like I’m hiding. Running away.”

“You’re not,” Steve urged. “Bucky, you’re far from running away. You’re fixing the problem. Facing the worst parts of you and reversing whatever they did to you for 70 years. It’s not easy to change the course of your life. And you’re choosing to do it, without even knowing if it’ll work.”

“You’ve always been so convicted,” Bucky said bitterly, then sucked in a shuddering breath. “I can’t be like that.”

“I’ll be that for both of us,” Steve said, closing his hand tighter around Bucky’s clenched fist. “Bucky, if I could do this with you –“ 

“Stop it,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth, and Steve saw how close he was to tears. “Stop being so goddamned – _stop_ it!” 

Bucky lunged at Steve and had him pushed to the bed before he could react. Even with one arm he was still massively strong, but Steve already had one hand on Bucky’s arm and the other on his bereft shoulder. With a twist, Steve flipped Bucky off the bed with a thud into the carpeted floor. Lucky for them, Wakandan guest rooms were quite large and relatively free of furniture.

“You want to go? Is that it?” Steve said, rolling off the bed and putting his fists up as Bucky got up. “Give it to me as hard as you’ve got, then.”

Bucky rushed at Steve, a low, feral roar tearing from his throat. This was the instinctive assassin that still lurked in Bucky coming to the fore. Bucky moved in close to Steve to make full use of his one good arm, and they ended up grappling with each other more than they threw punches. They fought hard and wordlessly, until Steve had Bucky around the chest, and Bucky was struggling to get free. With his back pressed up against Steve, Bucky just dug his heels in the floor and drove them backward, crashing Steve against the wall behind him.

Steve let go instinctively. Bucky rushed up to him almost immediately after, grabbing Steve’s right arm and pressing it to the wall over his head. And as Steve flung his other hand out to push him away, Bucky twisted his body into Steve's personal space and deftly clocked his hand aside, then pressed up against Steve and _kissed_ him; hard, bruisingly, devouringly. 

Steve kissed back, his head coming off the wall as he gave as good as he got. Bucky burned with the crashing desires to both hold Steve forever and also throw him across the room. He shuddered as he pressed their mouths close enough to knock teeth, gripping Steve’s arm in a stronger hold at the same time. But Steve didn’t give Bucky the chance to choose, wrapping his free arm around Bucky’s waist and jerking him closer, then burying his fingers in Bucky’s hair and holding his head in place. They kissed as heatedly as they had fought, ignoring the way their lips strained and nipped and chafed as they vied for dominance. 

Bucky let go of Steve’s arm and grabbed Steve’s head from behind. If Steve was going to trap him like this, then two could play at this game. Then, he suddenly felt Steve’s free hand lifting his shirt and nudging its way down the waist of his pants to grasp his half-hard cock. He nearly broke away from the kiss in surprise, but Steve’s other hand was still tangled in his hair, insistently pressing them together.

Steve lazily massaged Bucky’s cock to hardness, and Bucky canted his hips forward with a grunt. Bucky opened his eyes to look at Steve's face, so open with him even with his eyes closed, and he moved his hand from Steve's head to caress his face instead. His kisses began to linger as he cupped Steve’s jaw, his callouses gentle on Steve’s five o’clock shadow, his thumb stroking over the corner of Steve’s lips.

Steve felt the way the kiss changed, and he opened his eyes to see Bucky looking back at him. They began to slow down as they untangled from each other. Steve sifted his hand from Bucky’s hair, then wordlessly sank to his knees, pushed Bucky's pants down, and put his mouth around Bucky’s aching need.

Bucky couldn’t stop the moan that left him as Steve began sucking slowly. He took his time, one hand wrapped around the base of Bucky’s cock, worshipping as many inches as he could. It wasn’t the best blowjob Bucky’d ever received, seeing as Steve hadn’t worked on his technique much, but Steve more than made up for it by lavishing attention on everything he could get his mouth and hands on. 

Bucky glanced down once to find Captain America’s (fine, fine) nose buried in his tuft of hair, and as he groaned again at the sight, Steve looked up at him and winked. Bucky gripped Steve’s head then, trying to pull him off his cock as his stomach tightened dangerously. 

“I’m going to come,” Bucky grunted, and Steve pulled his mouth away at that. He put both hands on Bucky now, and starting twisting and working it, one hand covering his slit to catch his come. With the friction from Steve’s rough hands and his stupid trusting blue eyes looking up at him, the tightness low in Bucky built until there was nowhere to go but out. Bucky came with a low cry as Steve twisted his hands around Bucky’s cock, and Steve slowed and stopped as Bucky jerked to a close. 

Steve stood up to catch Bucky as he leaned heavily toward him. He ended up bracing his hips against the wall as they rested their foreheads together, slinging both arms low on Bucky’s waist, careful not to actually touch Bucky with his come-covered hands. 

“I think we need a shower,” Steve chuckled unsteadily. Super-soldiers though they were, they had both broken out in sweat during the fight.

“Screw showers,” Bucky mumbled. 

“Come on,” Steve laughed, “The best thing about this era is hot water on demand.”

Later, Bucky was privately thinking that the best thing about this era was probably this pair of worn, comfortable sweatpants Steve had lent him, when Steve slid into bed beside him, putting his arm over Bucky to hold him.

“Want me to turn the lights off?” Steve said.

“Sure,” Bucky said. “You should definitely sleep.”

“Nah,” Steve said as he reached over to the switch, before settling back around Bucky. “I’ll do the gross thing instead and watch you sleep.”

“Not sleeping,” Bucky said, then stifled a yawn. Steve had the decency to resist a snide comment. Instead, he moved his hand up to Bucky’s arm and began slowly stroking it, irresistibly.

Bucky murmured, "You weren't asleep at all when I opened the door, were you?"

"Nope," Steve said, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Did you think I go to bed with my door unlocked too?"

"Thought that was oddly unsafe," Bucky mumbled. “Did you lock it this time?”

“Yes, grandpa,” Steve said teasingly, still stroking Bucky’s arm, “When you were in the shower.”

“Only older by a year,” Bucky grumbled, but it was getting rather garbled. 

“Shut up and sleep," Steve whispered, but Bucky’s breathing was already starting to broaden out, and there was no smart-ass reply. “Sleep, Buck. I’ve got you.”


End file.
